


In The Heart Of It.

by CescaLR



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Ambiguous Relationships, Gen, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multiverse, Not RPF, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Timeline Shenanigans, Yoglabs, etc - Freeform, general multiple worlds and multiple clones shit, obvs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 23:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19283119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: There's nothing to worry about, really.Yoglabs runs like a well-oiled machine. Honestly. Really.(Just don't think about it. That helps keep things in line.)





	In The Heart Of It.

**Author's Note:**

> update: fixed the contents. It had double the first segment instead of the first then second segments, for some reason.

The sliding door opened. The fluid and the woman within surged out; the liquid pouring onto the floor, the woman gasping, spluttering, coughing, as she ripped medical tubes from her arms and her back.

“Ah.” He turned back to his computer. Monstrous thing, really, but thankfully most of the hardware was elsewhere. Still, some of the banks and an annoying amount of wiring was still in this room, and still visible. He needed easy access, after all, in case he needed to change something over or fix something or pull the plug.

“Again?” He asked, opening her folder and appending the new data to 53-b; death by – oh. Lava.

Lovely.

He winced, and looked over.

The woman coughed some more and grimaced, her voice thick and hoarse with disuse when she spoke. “Again,” She confirmed. “Gah. I hate that.”

“You’ll get used to it,” He said, out of obligation – employee manual, rules, page forty-b; always remind people of this fact. That’s paraphrased, of course, but it stands.

She hacked out a laugh. “You always say that, Doc.”

He smiled, slightly.

“Who am I this time?” She asked. “53-b.” He said.

“Really?” She groaned, and stayed on the floor where she’d fallen, practically lying in the pool of GCF.

“Really,” He confirmed, allowing some sympathy to colour his tone. In other clones, they were friends. It’d only help her existence as 53 (version c, now) if he wasn’t apathetic to her plight.

“So what’s the process?” She asked.

“Flux exposure,” He said. “Early stages, before it becomes incurable – maybe this you or this you’s friends might know how to fix it.”

“Oh great,” She stood. “ _Juust perfect._ Thanks, Lal.”

“Not my decision,” He reminded her.

“Which are you?” She asked, folding her arms once she was standing.

“Never ask a clone his designation,” He semi-joked. It was a sore spot for his line for – some… obvious reasons.

Nano sighed. Lalna looked back at the computer. “I’m 1119-17,” He said. Nano winced. “I keep an eye on the 50-59, inclusive, range of Nano Sounds clones. Sometimes I even get to make sure the 60 strain – but not 61-69 strains – is still up and running.”

“60s lucky.” Nano sighed. “She just gets to have a noodle bar. Me, now I’ve got to go live in the Lost Cities.”

“Don’t forget the Twilight Forest.” Duncan said. “And you have to deal with Mother.”

“ _Mother.”_ She groused. “Fine. Fine! Send me to processing, get me calibrated and stick the memories in and wipe me of –” She gestured, “The whole… _start_ of my life.”

“You won’t notice a thing,” Lalna said. “You’ll just wake up in bed.”

“Like always.” She nodded, straightening up. “Anything I should know?”

“You’re a duo with another me,” Lalna said. “210-a, which is fun. I don’t envy the Lalna that covers the 210 strains. Anyway – you’ve got neighbours in…”

Lalna sighed.

“You’ve got neighbours in Rythian Enderborn, Zoeya Mushroom, Minty, Ridgedog, Strife and Parvis, HatCorp, Captain Proasheck and Fiona. Oh, and the Rail Bros just Spawned in.”

“Fun.” She said. “Only them?”

“It’s a new world,” He said. “The others will show up, in time. Ryth’s got a grudge again. Against Lalna, but that’s old news – oh, HatCorps too, maybe you might team up at some point... Zoeya and Zoey and Fiona haven’t met, which will probably be at least interesting – I don’t doubt they’ll get along, anyway – I don’t really know much about Minty, frankly, I’m just a CS, but I think Strife and HatCorp will be the most – interesting to deal with. Then there’s Ridge.”

“Ridge?” Nano asked.

Lalna sighed. “Right. Ridgedog. Simply put, he’s – often a god. As for his role here, I don’t know. I’d tell you if I found out, but I won’t ever see you again after you get Respawned.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” She said, rolling her eyes. “What’s it like?” Nano asked.

“What?” Lalna looked up at her. “Not knowing what happens to the clones until they die?”

“Yeah.” She frowned at him. “What’s that like?”

“… Honestly I don’t really care.” Lalna said. “You’re all the same woman, Nano Sounds, down in storage. Mostly. Five is… a different case.”

Nano frowned. “Five?” She asked.

“You’ll find out,” He said. “Eventually. It’s inevitable. Part of your storyline, no matter the world you’re in. Sometimes you _are_ Five. Or another Specimen.”

“Right.” Nano said. “I’ll find out. But _I_ won’t, will I? I won’t even remember this.”

“53-” Lalna sighed, then shook his head. “No,” He allowed. “No, you won’t.”

“So. Will I be Nano then?” She asked. “53 is a Nano Sounds, right?”

“Yeah,” He said. “Nano Sounds, sometimes also known as Kim. 53-S5-a hasn’t been Spawned yet.” Lalna frowned and checked the records. “Neither has 210-LH-a.”

“At least there’s that.” Nano sighed. “Well. Best get started, yeah?”

“Right.” Lalna nodded. Nano nodded back, acknowledging, and then left through the door.

Lalna would never see that Nano again, of course.

Hmm.

Lalna glanced back at the screen - and, _oh,_ that's **interesting.**

Heh. That hasn't happened for a... while.

That's _very interesting._

Lalna closed the window, and started the wait for the next Nano clone.

* * *

 

Nano noted the subtle differences between the previous Lalna and this one.

Doc’s lab coat was different. He wasn’t wearing the gloves, either. Goggles on his head, not his eyes.

Neither were fluxed, but then – Yoglabs. One of the only safety hazards they paid attention to just so happened to be the taint. Nano knew this because all clones came pre-programed with the knowledge within the Employee Manual. For safety reasons, of course.

Lalna put down his coffee – ah, _great,_ the **coffee –** and looked up at her.

“53-c.” He nodded. “Nano Sounds. I’m Lalnable. 120-d. This shouldn’t take too long, I don’t think. First, it’s best if you clean off the remaining GCF – the Genetic Cloning Fluid,” He added, as if she didn’t have the Employee Manual imprinted on her from conception and so knew very well what GCF stood for – “- which is really more a heavy simplification than what it actually does, but nevermind – anyway, the cleanser’s over there.” He gestured vaguely. This Doc had never once looked up from his terminal. “Behind that door.”

Nano went through the door. All clones knew exactly what they had to do – it was in the manual – so the following process after she’d gotten clean went smooth as anything.

“Sorry, Nano,” He said, but he didn’t sound sorry.

Employee Manual, rules, page forty-a; make sure the clones don’t revolt before memory allocation and removal.

Employee Manual, rules, page forty-a; make sure the clones stay complacent.

Employee Manual, rules, page forty-a; kill if necessary.*

*Reminder: Death is nothing. It means nothing. Death, like sleep, is impermanent – sometimes even more so. Thanks to the patented cloning of our wonderful company, a coma is worse than death. Plainly put – to die is better than to suffer, because when you die you come back safe. Secure. Happy. Healthy. The trauma didn’t happen to you. It happened to the other you. It doesn’t matter.

_Don’t think about it._

Nano stood still as Lalnable injected a sedative into her, and calmly waited until everything faded away.

She wouldn’t remember this. But she’d remember herself, and isn’t that – better? To be alive. When she’d died? At the cost of – this. Whatever ‘this’ is, really, because.

The Employee Manual doesn’t tell you everything.

(It tells you enough.)

* * *

That’s a lot of graves. Xephos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then mentally gathered himself up and forced an air of – a sense of being completely composed, of being on top of things, of being in control of the situation.

Honeydew hummed to himself as he dug holes, that incessant song he’d made – oh, so many Spawns ago. So many _worlds_ ago, truly. There was probably something very morbid about this situation – oh, who’s he kidding, it’s _incredibly morbid –_ but the machines broke and the Testificates are _useless_ and Xephos has most of the spare clones on cloning duty and there’s only so many bodies of his oldest friend Xephos can callously incinerate before he starts thinking wistfully of the time when they were wandering the Minecraftia of old, fighting a red-eyed monster and having a grand old time of it.

And once _that_ happens, Xephos remembers the _Sand Incident_ and suddenly, chills down his spine and he’s taking his oldest friend on an old-school mining excursion, or a bit of fun in one of those test worlds some of the OGCs made. The ‘parkour’ maps, the ‘adventure’ maps.

All little worlds to take his mind off of things. And, yes, fine, to distract Honeydew from – from some of the things going on here. At Yoglabs.

There’s just so much that needs to be _done._ And there’s only so much one man can do, really. A few extra clones, here and there, a few cut corners – a few deleted and abandoned worlds, via a few destroyed books. A few worlds where they don’t allow for respawning because there’s already too many of everyone running around and if _someone_ were to find a book back here then –

Xephos took a breath, and mentally collected himself. It’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t worry about it _; it’s fine._

He can’t ignore all the problems until they go away, unfortunately, mostly because that’s not the sort of person he is or would ever like to be – but. But. If he says it’s fine, it’s fine, and it’s – he has it all under control.

He does.

“Care to tell me why we’re doing this again?” Honeydew asked, taking a break for a moment. He’d dug – oh, more graves in the last two hours than the machines operated by Testificates had dug in a week, but then… Testificates operating machinery. For god’s sake, they don’t even speak the same language! And no matter what Xephos has tried, he’s never been able to learn theirs.

Oh well. Nevermind. It’s fine.

“It’s a bit of fun,” Xephos lied. “You’ve been cooped up inside for weeks – I mean, it is a very… nice office, yes, but, I mean, oh honestly I just wanted a bit of fresh air.”

“Long time since we went on an adventure,” Honeydew agreed. Xephos didn’t bother correcting that assumption. The clone didn’t need to know.

Xephos thought of his best friend, long gone – _fucking traitorous Testificate –_ of the closest a clone had ever gotten to him stuck down there, forever, and sighed. “Not long enough,” He said, firmly. “Digging holes within view of the door is – much safer.”

“Right,” Honeydew said. “’Course it is.” He went back to digging, singing that blasted song to himself again. Xephos wandered off, in the direction of the graves that had already been used up.

He couldn’t _believe_ that the most recently buried clone _hadn’t been dead._ It wasn’t his fault, exactly – the fault of his clone, the one that had been on duty that day while he was… away… but – god.

How traumatizing. But then, there’s the chip… so maybe he didn’t even notice.

Employee Manual, rules, page 1-a, after all.

_(Don’t pay attention. Listen to your instincts; the tinny, not-implanted voice in your head. There is nothing to worry about here. It’s fine._

**_Don’t worry about it_ ** _.)_

Xephos sighed, and tapped the grass of the grave thrice. “I’m sorry, old friend,” He said. Stood, then grimaced and mentally gathered himself up again.

God. If only the coffee was safe to drink.

Xephos turned sharply and walked back over to Honeydew, who’d dug a few more graves in his absence.

“Whose graves are these?” Honeydew asked.

“Preparing for the worst,” Xephos said. “Nobodies’ graves _in particular_. They’re just… precaution. Preparing for the worst, like I said. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s fine, right?” Honeydew asked. “Well, I’m done here. I want some coffee. Have you finally fixed that machine, yet?”

“Yeah,” Xephos said. “It should work fine this time. We got all the sheep out of the system from last week, and the – … oil spill has been cleaned up.”

“Oil spill.” Honeydew said, dubiously. “ _Riight.”_

* * *

Most of the Rythians the Yoglabs-based Lalnas and Lalnables came across were – Old World Rythians. Pre-War Rythians.

Pre-Nukes. Pre-Revenge. Pre-downward fucking spiral into an actually _totally insane_ individual.

But that was just this Lalna’s opinon on the future of that one Rythian. This Rythian’s just a guy Lalna knows from the info he has about the Old World.

(After all – the oldest lalna, the Original Clone; the OGC – Livid Coffee, ‘Lalnable’, ‘Duncan’ – the Old World to Tekkitopia, to the YogLabs’ first proper foray into creating it’s own wholly new and separate world (though they did base it off of existing ones, but that’s YogLabs for you), that clone – or, well, that _strain,_ the 1s, because 0 is the Lalna in storage, they, well, they think that. Other Lalnas have other opinions, probably because they have other experiences. The point trying to be made here is this Lalna… doesn’t actually remember any of that. All he’s ever known – will ever know – is YogLabs.)

Lalna savoured his coffee, mind-controlling as it was (and unfortunately addictive as it always would be), and nodded to the green-wearing Rythian across from him.

This was an _old_ version of the man. Back when the half-face shtick was for the aesthetic alone. Before –

To put it simply… before The End.

Keeping an eye on the eye colour helps note how much he’s been corrupted by The End, too. But he’s been reliably informed it’s weird to stare at people like you’d stare at a particularly complex bit of machinery, so Lalna avoids it. It helps, sure, that his goggles make it rather hard to tell, in the end, what he’s looking at.

“Duncan,” Rythian greeted. “Rythian,” Lalna replied.

“Man, it’s been a while.” The shifting of the scarf hinted at a smile. “This is where you ended up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lalna said. “YogLabs.”

“A lot more science than I know what to do with,” Rythian said, “I mean – I was _just_ getting the general gist of what you explained, but…” Rythian shrugged.

Right. Information trade – science for magic. Magic for science. A waste, really, since Rythian never took advantage of the _combination._

Lalna wondered if the original Lalnable and the original Rythian had been something akin to friends.

Hmm.

“What do you do here, then?” Lalna asked. He’d drank half the coffee, and it was far, far too sweet – but. Mind control. Lalna took another drink, happy to get rid of it as quickly as possible in the only way he could.

“Magic,” Rythian definitely grinned at that, which was – hmm. Lalna should read the psychological profiles more often.

“Logical,” Lalna said. “Given, y’know,” Lalna gestured, moving his hands and his fingers in the universal sign for ‘magic stuff I guess’. “Your skillset.”

“Right,” Rythian agreed. They probably chose this Rythian for the jobs that would bring him up to the top levels and out of the Magic department just in case he came across anyone like Lalna or Sjin or – whoever he had a grudge against that week. Lalna noted it down, again, to check the psychological profiles.

“What do you do?” Rythian asked.

“Cloning,” Lalna said. “the 30-50 strains for Minty.”

“Not bad,” Rythian said, as opposed to something reasonable, like ‘what a waste of your skillset’.

“Just – great. Brilliant, even.” Lalna said. “Making sure everyone gets to respawn. Most of us get that job.”

“I help keep the worlds running,” Rythian said. “Alongside…” Rythian frowned. “Me.”

Interesting choice. “Which you?” Lalna asked.

“1-z-xcix.” He said. Lalna winced. Not at the high number – really, ninety-nine was nothing – but…

The 1s were the – OGC strains.

The ones who went through…. The main section of everything.

It was pretty strange, though – that the most recent main Rythian clone was – still here.

“He’s not been put back out yet?” Lalna asked, surprise somewhat genuine.

“They were,” Rythian said. “Something happened to him and Zoey and Teep when they went through the Twilight Portal. I don’t know, it’s not been recorded. Either way…. They’re here.”

“Zoeya Mushroom?” He asked. “Or the Captain?”

“Strain 1 Zoeya, yeah, the first,” Rythain said. Oh, right. Obviously.

“Right, yeah,” Lalna said. “So those two are around here too?”

“Somewhere,” Rythian said. “I haven’t met them. I don’t know, I guess he doesn’t want me to.”

Lalna thought about Zoey meeting the younger, less – jaded and insane Rythian, and figured… yeah. OGC Rythian wouldn’t want that, ever.

Lalna smiled. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Lalna said. “We’re all friends. Just because you’re a different version doesn’t mean he should get _possessive_ about it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Rythian said. “But…”

“But what?” Lalna said. “Come _on,_ Ryth. Zoey’s great. She’s not going to not like you.”

“Well I know that,” Rythian said. “She’s not the same Zoey I know though, is she?”

“Oh,” Lalna paused. No, there were – there were no Old World Zoeys running around YogLabs at the current moment. “Well, no, but that – that doesn’t _matter,”_ He said, dismissively, “She’s still Zoey. Strain 1, even, so about as close as you’ll get.”

“I’m strain 1,” Rythian pointed out. “Copy of – one of the very first.”

“Well, yeah,” Lalna said. “There are copies of all of my early OGCs all over the show. Me, I’m late to the party. 90s”

“That’s pretty early,” Rythian said. “Don’t you go up to 1500?”

“1543,” Lalna corrected. “Some modifier strains, like LH. But… yeah. One of the higher ones.” He allowed.

“Simon’s the highest, though, isn’t he?” Rythian said, question rhetorical because, - of fucking course he is. He’s the boss’ best friend. The first cloned.

(If only because it was very dangerous to test, and back then, the original dwarf’s brain had been stable enough to do things like that. To think about them in any real capacity. Not that he was much of an idiot – more that his brain just…

He’d been the subject of too many YogLabs tests, really.)

“Yeah,” Lalna said anyway. Maybe it wasn’t intended as rhetorical, since Lalna has no way to know if was or not for certain, given that he can’t yet read minds.

(Yet.)

“By a _very_ wide margin,” Lalna added.

“I should get back to work,” Rythian said, sighing. He pulled down the scarf and drank his coffee, his face only marred by a somewhat amusing tan-line where his scarf covered the lower half of his face and nothing more – and then he stood.

“Me too,” Lalna sighed, reluctant. More of the same.

“It’s not a bad job,” Rythain said. “Helping the worlds. Better than just sitting by and letting them burn while people die, right?”

“Yeah,” Lalna said, ‘remembering’ the times he’d flown by and rained death on people as he _helped_ burn the world. “Much better.”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> YEP i'm still on my bullshit


End file.
